


Words Scarred Across Our Skin

by denna5



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Multi, soul mate words, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:50:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denna5/pseuds/denna5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where your soulmate's words mark your skin, for three people it is not that simple. A story of words and how fate can only change them a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerEnvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerEnvy/gifts).



> So this is something I started a little while ago and planned to be a one shot with just Clint's POV but it did not turn out that way and I wanted to go ahead and post it so that I will keep working on it. Updates may be slow because I have a lot of fic going on but the world needs more of this pairing. This was inspired by a tumblr post and I couldn't get it out of my head. Feedback is awesome.

Clint gets his words when he is sixteen. They appear just below his ribs, on his left side, and he knows that it is his soul mate’s words but he can’t read them at first. It isn’t because of their position really, it is how they look. They are scribbly, almost look like they have been written across his skin twice in the same spot, one right over the other. They don’t make sense, don’t look like any words that Clint knows, and he is confused by them at first. It looks like two sentences, the second one a question, but he only knows that because of the period and question mark, the only things that makes sense. He had wondered about his words for so long and now that they have appeared, he still has no idea what they are. It takes him a little while to realize that they are simply in another language, he just has no idea which one. He will figure it out, just hopes that they aren’t said before he knows what they mean.

He looks at the marks almost every day, tries to figure out what language they are in. Clint likes to trace them with his fingers and Barney teases him about it, tells him he is going to rub them off. Clint knows that they won’t, soulmarks don’t fade, and there is something reassuring about them. Not everyone has them, they are a bit rare, and there is something nice about the fact that Clint does. It tells him that there is someone out there, that they are definitely going to meet, that everything is going to work out.

He is seventeen almost eighteen when he finds out what language they are in, what they mean. Barney has left the circus by then, went off to join the army and Clint didn’t follow. Things are getting a bit rough, he isn’t sure if he should trust Buck anymore and he just isn’t sure if he will be able to stay here much longer. He loves preforming, loves the crowd and this has been home for a while so he is going to tough it out till he can’t anymore. At this point, this is as close to a home as he thinks he might get and he stays here just like the others do. There are new faces every once in a while that come and joins them and it is one of the new faces that notices Clint’s marks and tells him what they mean.

Her name is Lidiya and she recently started working with them, making costumes. She is older, only been in the states from Russia for a few years but she is nice enough and had offered to patch up Clint’s costume for him. He is trying the tunic on again when she notices his words, makes a comment about it.

“Do you know what your words mean?”

“No, do you?”                                                                                                 

He asks and she gives him a nod.

“Eta strelka prinadlezhat vam . Khotite yego obratno ?” She rattles them out and he just stares at her for a moment. “That really doesn’t help me. Is it Russian then?” 

She gives him a bit of a smile.

“Yes. It means this arrow belongs to you. Would you like it back?”

They seem fitting and he wonders just how they will be spoken, why, who will speak them, and if maybe he needs to move to Russia. If he moves to Russia, maybe he should figure out what people are saying there. His mind is running through a million thoughts at once and he finds himself blurting out a question.

“I don’t speak Russian, would you be willing to teach me?”

She gives him a bit of a smile now and when she peaks, her voice is kind.

“I can try. You will possibly need to do some favors for me but I should be able to help you learn some phrases.”

That sounds pretty good to Clint. He wants to be able to communicate at least a bit with whoever his other half is supposed to be. They make arrangements for Clint to start lessons with her and later that night he feels bit of hope, runs his fingers over the words that he finally knows the meaning of and wonders if his soulmate is also thinking about their words, about what he is going to say to them. He wonders if his soulmate has their words yet or is they are a bit younger than Clint, don’t have them yet or if they have had their words for years now and have been waiting for Clint’s to show up. He wonders a lot about his soulmate but it will probably be a while before he can meet them. Clint can wait.

He starts learning a bit of Russian, wants to get a few key words and phrases down. Lidiya helps him quite a bit, tells him when the words aren’t quite right and helps him to correct them. They go at it for a few months before the lessons end. He doesn’t get fluent by the time she has to leave, a family emergency making her need to go back to her home country for a while, but he knows enough to be able to get by a bit. He never gets to resume his lessons, doesn’t even know if she made it back to the circus because just about two months after she leaves is when everything falls apart, when Clint can’t stay there anymore and so he leaves and everything becomes a bit more complicated and thoughts of finding his soulmate gets pushed aside.

+-+-+-+-+

The target is dead and Natasha is cleaning off now, getting rid of the blood. This is not her first kill but this one had been a bit messy and she is glad that she has a chance to clean off before going back to her handlers. The safe house is secured and she lets herself have the small luxury of a warm shower, of washing all the grime and blood off of her skin and soon enough she is clean. She is standing in front of the mirror now, making sure she did not miss any spots when something catches her eyes, black marks on her skin and she freezes for a moment.

There are marks on her skin and there shouldn’t be. There are words on her skin and Natasha knows that they will not be allowed to stay but that they will come back. She sees the words and knows that she is going to have pain soon, the words cut off of her skin and that she will have to have it done more than once, that the marks won’t stay gone. Natasha has seen it happened before, to a few of the other girls and she had always hoped that she would be spared it, that she wouldn’t have the burden of a soul mark. Now, she is looking at herself and she knows that she needs to tell a handler, let them know but she will do that when she checks in. For now looks at the marks on her skin and realizes something strange. There are two sets of words.

One trails across her lower ribs while the other is lower, near her hip. They are different writing, different languages but she can read both of them clearly. The ones across her ribs are in her native tongue, the writing neat for the most part, precise. YA tebya ne pomnyu. YA ne davali . Two sentences, short and simple but they raise questions. They speak of not remembering and she wonders if the one who says this is someone she has met before, someone she met when she was younger. It happens, meeting one’s soulmate before you are old enough for it, before one is ready for it, and she supposes that could be what is happening now. There are many people who have passed through her life and she wonders briefly who it could be before pushing the thought aside and looking at the words across her hip, the ones in English.

The writing is messy, scrawled across her skin, and it is long, is going to hurt when it is cut off of her. It is all one sentence but it is rambling, long. That was a warning, could have put it through an eye, need to talk to you, about chances. That is what the words say and they raise just as many questions as the first set.  What possible chance could they be speaking about, what warning? She has no idea, just knows that she won’t be allowed to take whatever chance that may be offered. Her duty is to her country and it is greater than any soul mark, greater than any personal relationship she could have. Natasha learned that long ago and it is a lesson she reminds herself now. Still, she runs her fingers over both sets of marks briefly, lets herself wonder for just a moment what it would be like to keep the marks, to have something besides duty. What it would be like to have ties to someone, have someone to trust, to love. Love is for children and Natasha has not been a child in a long time but still sometimes the idea has its appeal. She allows herself one more moment of wondering and then she pushes it aside, goes and gets dressed. She has her duty and that is enough.

The next day she is at a base, is being made ready for the procedure and she takes deep breathes as they start it. It hurts just as she knew it would, the knives are sharp and they cut into her skin, slice the words off neatly. They will do as little damage as they can, just want the words off and they will make the skin there look like it has always been unmarked. Soon enough it is done, the cutting is over and Natasha sits patiently as they wrap bandages around her. There is white cloth around her now, white where once there had been black and she tries not to think about how the bandages are too clean, how they don’t look right. She had marks there once, marks that meant that someone out there is hers but now the marks are gone. They will come back but she will just have to have them removed again, will have to them cut off her skin. They are a distraction and she is not allowed distractions. Natasha has a duty and she must see it through.

+-+-+-+-+

Everything is fuzzy right now and the soldier recognizes the feeling. He is waking up, is being taken out of the cold. His eyes are open now and he can see what is around him, the chamber the room, knows that there are others here. He is told to walk out of the chamber so he does so. They have him sit down in a chair and they remove his shirt, start looking him over and checking his vitals and that is when one of them says something that makes the soldier look at his own skin.

“He has another set of words.”

The soldier looks down and there are two sets of marks on his skin, one across his ribs and the other a few inches below that. Different handwriting for each, a different language, and the soldier is dimly aware that he has had the one on his ribs longer, the one in English. Your arm is really shiny, please don’t kill me is scribbled across his left ribs in a messy sprawl and the soldier is allowed to remember them. The soldier has orders about those words, about the person who says them, and the soldier wonders if he will be given the same orders about this new writing.

The new writing is neater, smaller and the words are a familiar language though it is not English. Vy byli moim uchitelem odin raz, he knows what those words mean but he doesn’t remember teaching anyone before, doesn’t know why those words would be said. He is staring at the words still and he can hear the murmurs of conversation around him.

“Those are in Russian, it might be one of the girls he has trained. Don’t they cut off their words?”

“They do but the words come back after a while and they have to do it all over again, it is why we don’t do it with him, best to just make sure he has an order in place for if he meets them. “

“What will be the order for those then?”

“Don’t know yet, have to consult the higher ups. This one may be a bit complicated.”

There is a bit more conversation but the soldier pays little mind to it, just looks at both sets of words. They are important for some reason, he knows that, mean something important, but he also knows he has to obey his orders, has to complete his missions. Soon enough, they are done with looking him over and the soldier is given a mission and the thoughts of the words are pushed aside for now. He will follow his orders about the words when the time comes.

++-+-+-+


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it has taken so long to get back to this, life has interfered and I have so many stories going on, but here is a bit more and hopefully it won't be almost a year inbetween updates this time.

Nothing really changes after the words are cut off. Natasha is still given missions, still completes them, is still one of the best agents that the red room has ever produced. She does her job, does it well and life goes on much the same as it did before and when the words reappear a few weeks after they are cut off, Natasha is back under the knife, getting them scrapped  off again and she wonders how many times this will happen, if it will happen every few weeks till she dies or if eventually the words won’t come back. She isn’t sure which would be better and she tries not to think about it and she succeeds for the most part.  She doesn’t think about the words much until a mission that she is not alone for.

It is a joint mission, an operative coming in from another branch and Natasha recognizes him when she sees him, has never forgotten the Winter Soldier though it has been years since she last saw him. The winter soldier is a legend, one spoken about with fear and awe, one that many believes to just be that, a legend, a myth but Natasha knows he is real, was trained by him once.  She was so young then, small and not as strong as she is now but he had not pulled his punches and she can remember how his hits had hurt, how the metal of his hand felt against her skin, the marks he left upon her. She also remembers him helping her up after knocking her down, remembers his words of praise and smiles when she did well. There had been a kindness to him that not many of her teachers had and she had always wonder if she would see him again and here he is, looking just as she remembers, as if he has not aged since then though she is very different than the little girl he taught.

He is quiet during the meeting with the handlers, barely says anything, just stands at attention and listens to their instructions and Natasha takes glances of him when she can. The winter soldier is beautiful in his own way, not quite the way that Natasha is but still beautiful. Her beauty hides how dangerous she can be, hides the weapon that she is but the winter soldier radiates just how dangerous a weapon he can be.  It is in the way he stands alert, the way there is very little expression on his face, the tension in his body and Natasha wonders if he still smiles like he used to.  She will probably not find out on this mission but when they are left alone, she does take the chance to speak to him, to see if he remembers her like she remembers him.

“Vy byli moim uchitelem odin raz.”

She says this, the Russian coming out smoothly and he turns and looks at her. There is expression on his face now, a bit of confusion and then realization of something but no real recognition of her.  He speaks after just a moment and the words cause her to stiffen.

“YA tebya ne pomnyu. YA ne davali .”

Those words do not adorn her skin right now but they did once and she remembers them clearly, had wondered who would say them. It has happened now and she wonders if the words she said adorn his skin or it they were cut off as well.  She wants to ask but there is something about his words that cause her to ask another question instead.

“Budete li vy pomnite menya posle etogo?”

She doesn’t ask why he doesn’t remember her, she knows what can be done ,enough of her own memories are blocked but she wants to know if he might remember her after this.  

“YA ne znayu. Yest' prikaz sledovat' , ya dolzhen zavershit' svoyu missiyu . Eti slova ne imeyut znacheniya .” He says this simply  and Natasha understands duty, understands orders. They are both weapons after all, forged and used and that is why the words are unimportant. Duty comes first and she gives a simple nod and her own words.  

“U menya yest' svoi zakazy , a takzhe. My zakonchim missiyu .”

 

It is her way of letting him know that she understands, that the mission comes first.  He just looks at her for a long moment, eyes a dark blue and he stands so still and she wonders if he would move if she touched him.  She takes one step closer to him now, reaches a hand out and places it gently on the forearm of his metal arm, curls fingers around it. He looks at her still, something softening in his expression and she wonders how often he gets touched.

 

“Can you feel that?”

 

She switches to English now, remembers him using it before, remembers that at times there had been just a hint of American accent and she wants to see if he still has that. He seems so much like she remembers but different at the same time and she is curious about him. There can’t be anything between them even though they have each other’s words but it can’t hurt to find out just a little bit about him right now while there is time, before their handlers come back.

 

“Feel the pressure of your hand but not the warmth.”

 

The words are clear, his voice holding just that hint of accent still and she uncurls her hand now, moves it to his other arm, to where she can see the bare skin of his wrist just where his jacket sleeve ends.  She hesitates for just a moment and he gives a small nod, like permission that she can touch him. She does, wraps her fingers around his wrist, feels the warmth of his skin, feels the pulse beating there.

 

“Your fingers are soft.”

 

He says this, is just staring at her and she says nothing just gently rubs her thumb along his pulse. It is strong and steady and she likes how he doesn’t try to move from her grasp, just lets her touch.  They stay like that for a few seconds till the sound of the door opening can be hear and Natasha lets go now, steps away from the soldier and soon enough the handlers are back in the room and it is time to do their duty.

 

The mission goes well, the target is dead soon enough and Natasha does not get a chance to speak to the soldier again.  She tells herself it doesn’t matter, that it can’t matter, but she wonders how it would be if it did, if she could speak to him again, get to know him. It isn’t something that can happen so she pushes the thought aside until the words reappear again.  This time both sets of them are in English, the one about chances still the same but the ones across her ribs are different and she knows that she will see the soldier again.

 

She does see him again, another mission, but this time he says her words first, right before they are to head out, no handlers in sight.

 

“I will be in the tower, I will cover you.”

 

Those words were across her ribs just a week ago and she just gives a little nod now, speaks to see what he will do.

 

“I know you will.”

 

She sees a brief look of recognition and on instinct she takes a step closer, reaches a hand out. He lets her take a hold of his wrist for just a moment before he speaks.

 

“The mission has to be finished. “

 

She gives a simple nod and lets go of his wrist now. They go about their mission and this time when they finish, there are a few minutes that they are left alone in the safe house waiting to be picked up and she asks a question that she has asked before but in English this time.

 

“ Will you remember me after this?”

 

He looks at her for a moment before he answers.

 

“I don’t know. I have met you before this, haven’t I? “

 

“Yes, you taught me when I was younger and we did a mission together before this. Do you have the words I first  said to you written somewhere?”

 

She has wondered about this, wonders if they are cut off like hers, if they have come back,  and  he gives a nod now.

 

“Can I see them?”  


He hesitates for just a moment before he lifts his shirt turns so she can see the writing across his hip. There in small neat letters are the words she said earlier, sprawled across his skin.  It is one thing to know that someone had her words, one thing to hear them, but it is different to see them there, on his skin. Natasha leans just a little closer, places one finger against his skin and traces the words there, needs to feel them.  He stiffens just a bit before relaxing into her touch and he speaks just as she is finishing tracing.

 

“Can I see my words?”

 

He asks softly, looking at her and she sees something flash in his eyes when she shakes her head.  She doesn’t owe him an explanation but she gives one anyway.

 

“They are not there right now, have been cut off. They will come back later but they may be different, they were this time.  They were here.”

 

She moves her hand away from his words, gestures to her ribs now, where the words would be if they were still there but she does not lift up her shirt like he did his, doesn’t want him to see the skin devoid of words.  He holds his flesh hand out now and she gives a little nod and he places it against where she had gestured, runs fingers over where the words would be, touch light and she can feel the warmth of his hand through her shirt.

 

“I have some words here as well but you didn’t say them. “

 

 He says this and it makes her curiosity rise just a bit. He has another set of words, just like she does, and she wonders what that could mean.

 

“Have you heard them before?”  


“I do not remember but I do not think so. There are orders in place and they have not changed for either set of words.”

 

He says this so simply, like it is nothing more than a fact and Natasha knows that for him it is, just like the words being cut off are a fact for her.

 

“What are your orders for my words?”

 

She asks now and he still hasn’t moved his hand away yet.

 

“To take no action, finish my assignment and report back to base. What are your orders?”

 

He says this and she suspected as much.

 

“Like yours, no action is to be taken because of the words. They are a distraction, nothing more.”

 

Her voice sounds steady and he gives a nod at her words, moves his hand away now and she misses the warmth just a bit.  It is not that she goes without touch, she gets touched a lot but it is almost always by targets, by marks. She allows them to touch her so she can get close but his touch had been different, she allowed it because she wanted it, not because she needed to and it had been gentle. Natasha hasn’t had much gentle, much softness, but this little moment of it had been nice.

 

“They should be here soon, we should get ready.”

 

It is all the soldier says and then he is rising from his spot. Natasha lets him, goes about what she needs to do as well and soon enough they are separated again.

 

She sees  him again just a couple of weeks later, her words have not returned yet and there is no real recognition in his eyes when he looks at her and she knows that he doesn’t really remember her once again.  It shouldn’t matter but it does for some reason and Natasha tries not to think about why it does.   The mission goes well and they get a few moments alone and she debates whether she should say anything to him this time when he moves just a bit closer to her, his flesh hand near hers and she brushes her fingers against it without really thinking about it.

 

“Vashi pal'tsy stanut myagkimi.”Those words come out softly and she looks at him now, gives him just a little smile and wonders how many times they may say the same thing to each other in different words.  “Tak chto ya skazal ran'she.” There is a brief moment of realization in his eyes, just a flicker and something that almost seems like recognition but they don’t really have a chance to talk about it.  His handlers are back in the room and soon they are separated again and Natasha wonders if this time it will be permanent but just a week later, words appear on her skin and she knows that she will see him again.

 

++-+-+-+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Budete li vy pomnite menya posle etogo? – Will you remember me after this?
> 
> YA ne znayu. Yest' prikaz sledovat' , ya dolzhen zavershit' svoyu missiyu . Eti slova ne imeyut znacheniya   
> -I do not know. There are orders to follow, I have to complete my mission. Those words do not matter. 
> 
> U menya yest' svoi zakazy , a takzhe. My zakonchim missiyu .  
> \- I have my orders as well. We will finish the mission.  
> Vashi pal'tsy stanut myagkimi. – Your fingers are soft.   
> Tak chto ya skazal ran'she. – So I have been told before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a bit more and I hope people enjoy and comments would be awesome.

++-+-+-+

The soldier knows that one set of his words keep changing, knows it even if he can’t remember what they may have been before. It is a feeling of sorts and there is always enough chatter about him that he overhears things and there is always talk of his words when he first wakes up.

“They have changed again, what is this the faith or sixth time they have changed?”

It is the techs talking again and the solider just listens, says nothing. He isn’t supposed to speak most of the time unless spoken to and they aren’t talking to him right now, are talking about him and he just listens as he wakes up a bit more, lets them get him ready.

“Something like that, whatever red room girl they keep sending him out with must be the one speaking his words but it hasn’t caused any problems. His orders are in place and he knows by now not to go against them.”

The soldier hears this, wonders how many times he may have met this girl that they are speaking about. For just a moment there is a flash of red in his mind, bright hair like fire, and it is nothing more than a flicker. He has those from time to time, little flickers of things that he may have known or seen at some time, broken memories that he never gets to keep. He lets it pass and just does as he is told but when he gets a chance he does look at his words again.

The ones across his ribs look like they always have but the ones below them are different now. They are in the same language as the ones on his ribs but the soldier knows somehow that they are not always like that. He looks them over for just a moment, wonders if they will be said soon, and then pushes them out of his mind, gets ready for the mission.

He isn’t doing this mission alone and soon enough he is in a safe house waiting for his partner for this one.  The mission will not be till the morning so there is time to rest and prepare. The soldier sits at the table, goes over his weapons that he was allowed for this mission,  lays them all out.  Each one is looked over, checked for any flaws, checked to make sure that they are clean and ready. This is simple and the soldier enjoys it just a bit, enjoys holding the knives in his hands and sharpening them, like being able to do something with his hands. He sleeps so often that it is nice to be awake and able to move.

He is still cleaning his knives when he hears movement. The soldier does not get up, just stays seated. It is more than likely his partner for the mission and if it is there is no reason to get up yet. If it is not, the soldier will be able to throw one of his knives quickly enough that any threat will be handled.

“It looks like you are prepared for tomorrow.”

Those words are on his skin right now and the soldier simply looks up at the girl who said them, sees her red hair shinning in the light. She  stands a few feet away, posture relaxed for the most part and there is something very familiar about her, about her green eyes and red hair and he knows that they have worked together before.  He gives her a small nod as he puts the knives down.

“It is important to have the right weapons on hand. “

She walks forward with his words and he almost wants to see if they are on her skin. He knows somehow that they aren’t and so he won’t ask about them. She sits down next to him, so very close, and she leans forward and brushes a finger along the blade he is holding till her finger touches his for a brief moment and then she moves her hand away. Her touch had been soft and warm and her voice sounds a bit the same as she speaks now.

“I know you don’t remember but you have told me that before.  It was one of the first lessons I was ever taught and one that you like to remind me of at times. You also taught me to clean knives. ”

She holds a hand out with those last words and he hands her one of the knives he hasn’t gotten to yet. She starts to clean it and he watches her for just a few moments before returning to his own knife.  They work in silence for just a few moments before he decides to ask a question.

“How many times have we met?”

He has no idea, memories wiped clean after each time more than likely, and it doesn’t really matter if he knows or not but he wants to.  She turns and looks at him now, takes just a moment to think it over before she answers.

“This is the eighth time. The first was when I was young, you taught me.”

She is still young, the soldier knows that she is, young but hands already stained with blood and he helped make her that way. It is a thought he isn’t quite sure what to make of, something squirming insides of him at it that is not pleasant but he pushes it aside as she speaks some more.

“You were kind and I remembered you the second time we met but you didn’t remember me. That was after the words first appeared. We have met since then, worked together and each time is a bit different but my orders remain the same. We do the mission tomorrow and then you will probably forget me but we may see each other again.”

She says all of this so simply and he wonders what it is like for her to remember this, to not be made to forget.   He wants to ask but he doesn’t, instead gives her a little nod and goes back to his knife.  They go over the mission for tomorrow as they work, lay everything out and soon enough they are prepared enough that it would be a good idea to rest for the night.

“There is one bed here, you can have it.”

He tells her this now and she looks at him for just a moment.

“We can share it, no sense in you lying on the floor.”

“I might not lie down, I may not need to sleep tonight.”

It is the truth, he is still fresh enough out of cryo that he may not feel the need to sleep. She just looks at him for a moment before giving a nod and going into the other room.  He can hear water running for a few moments, she must be cleaning up a bit and when she comes back her shoes are off. She moves closer to the table,  closer to him, and reaches a hand out.

“I know you said you may not sleep but you should still lay down for a bit.  I promise not to steal the covers too often.”

Her hand is near him, palm open and he thinks about it for just a moment before he reaches out and takes her hand. It is soft and warm and he doesn’t get to feel either of those things very often.  He follows her to the room with the bed, takes his boots off and lays down on the bed. She lays down next to him and he can feel the warmth of her body. It is pleasant.

“I wondered what this would feel like, just lying with someone, lying with you. It is kind of nice.”

She says this softly and the soldier gives her a nod. They lay there and after just a few moments, she closes her eyes. The soldier does not, keeps them open and looks over at her every so often. Her hair is still so bright even in the dimness of the room and he reaches out for just a moment and runs his flesh hand over it.  It is soft and she shifts only a little bit at the touch but does not open her eyes.

“You can keep your hand there, I don’t mind.”

It is almost a whisper but he hears it and he puts his hand back in her hair,  strokes it softly.  He doesn’t get the chance to touch like this, to touch and not cause harm and he likes it. He keeps his hand in her hair as her breathing evens out, as she falls asleep.  She only shifts a few times during the night but each time she doesn’t move away from him, in fact she ends up closer. He lets her settle against him, head near his shoulder and it makes something inside him relax just a bit. He doesn’t get this, this sort of close contact with another and he stays near her the whole night, lets her rest and doesn’t mind not sleeping himself.

The next morning she wakes and gives him a smile before getting out of bed. The smile is as bright as her hair and it warms the soldier up just a bit.  They start to get ready to leave now and he takes just a moment to ask a question that he is not sure if he has asked before.

“What is your name?”

It shouldn’t matter, he will probably forget her again soon enough but he wants to know it.

“You have never asked before. It is Natasha.  I have never heard yours, do you remember it?”

She asks and he shakes his head. It has never mattered  but he does wish he had one to give her.

“When I was young, I called you Winter sometimes. It is probably not your name but it is something to call you, if you want me to call you something.”

She says this now and he can feel his lips turn up just a bit in a smile.

“You may call me Winter, Natasha.”

He gets another quick smile from her and then they get ready to leave.

The mission is pretty standard, Natasha playing at bait with the soldier in the wings, and she is very good at what she does.  She gets the man alone quickly enough, plays like she is interested, lets him stand too close and it makes something  in the soldier’s stomach clench up to know that she has probably done this often.  He is able to take the shot before she has to let the man touch her too much and he is glad for it.  It doesn’t take long for her to take what is needed off of his body and then they are meeting up again, go back to the safe house.

They get a little more time alone before they will be separated again and the soldier makes the most of it.  They speak a little bit about past missions that they have done together, Natasha telling him of them and some stories of when he taught her, and as she speaks sometimes he gets flickers of the missions, flickers of her.  He wishes that he could remember her in case they meet again but he knows better than to try to ask to keep his memories of her.  Memories are considered a distraction just like the words are so he won’t mention talking to her about them.  Soon enough their handlers are there, mission debriefing is given, and then they are separated. He thinks about her till he gets put in the chair and then a lot is wiped away and he is put back to sleep.

The soldier awakens soon enough, is on a mission again with a partner and as soon as he sees her, he knows that he knows her somehow.  Her hair is bright red and it makes him think of warmth and softness and when she speaks it is words that are on his skin. He doesn’t get much time with her, the mission is very short but he gets a smile from her before they are separated and it warms him all the way through.

The soldier dreams of red now, of red hair and bright smiles and he wishes he could remember more than that.  There is someone out there with that red hair and that brightness and he hopes he will see them again even if he isn’t allowed to keep them.  Every time he is waken for a mission there is hope that he will be assigned a partner for it and hope that it will be the one he dreams about.

He is awake now, on a mission, but he is alone for this one.  Disappointment clings to him just a bit but the soldier tries to push it down.  He has been given time for this one, a few days, and it is a few days without the chair, without direct orders and he is planning on enjoying this small amount of freedom even though he wishes he could see the brightness he keeps dreaming of.   Maybe there will be more brightness later, for now he follows his target and waits for his chance to strike.

There is a moment that looks perfect, the target is alone, and the soldier waits for him in his room, hidden just out of sight.  This shouldn’t take long and the soldier is ready for it, ready to strike out when the lights turn on but something happens before he can. There is a shot fired, something flying through the window and the target is hit, someone taking the shot before the soldier could.  He comes out of his spot now, looks at the target and the arrow sticking out of him, looks out of the window. He can see someone on the nearby roof, sees them startle and take off.  He has orders for when a target is stolen and he needs to follow them.  The soldier takes the arrow with him and starts his hunt.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a bit more, promise I will get back to other stories soon, just had a lot going on. Thank you for reading.

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Everything is messed up right now and Clint just hopes he can get out of it alive and somewhat unharmed. Clint is used to things not always going right, used to possibly having others after him because  of something he did or being double crossed, of having to run after a job was done, but this is bad even by Clint’s usual standards.  After all, it isn’t everyday that Clint is after a target that someone else is as well, isn’t everyday that he steals a target from some guy that is apparently only referred to as the Winter Soldier, isn’t everyday when he has to run after a successful job  but today is that day apparently and Clint just hopes he makes it through.

He has managed so far to make it out ok but he has heard about this guy before, heard the rumors and he really doesn’t want to come face to face with him. If he had known the soldier was after that guy as well, he wouldn’t have taken the job but he hadn’t known so he had. He got his shot in but that was when something went wrong, when someone else came into the room. Clint had seen him from his vantage point, had seen the glimpse of metal, had seen the guy look around to see who had fired the arrow and that was when Clint knew he was in trouble so he ran, tried to cover his tracks best that he could.  He had heard enough to know who the winter soldier is, didn’t think he was real but that can’t possibly be that many assassins with metal arms so Clint didn’t think it was worth taking the chance of waiting around, so running was the best option.  He thinks he has managed to get out of there alright, has made it back to the safe house he had been using and he is hoping he can crash soon, body tired and worn out from the day and from stress. He does a lap around it, make sure things are safe but as soon as he enters the  bedroom and turns on the light, that is when things go wrong.

Clint is fast, careful, and flexible but none of that seems to matter right now because he finds himself slammed against a wall. There is a metal hand  pinning him against it by settling on his throat and there are blue eyes watching him. He had been followed here and hadn’t even known it. The winter soldier stands in front of him and in his right hand is Clint’s arrow. He holds it up now, makes  certain that Clint sees it, and then he is speaking, words quiet but unmistakable.

“Eta strelka prinadlezhat vam . Khotite yego obratno ?” 

Clint feels like he has just been shocked, feels a jolt of electricity go through his body. He used to dream about those words, used to trace them, and now he is hearing them. His soul mate is in front of him now, metal hand gripping Clint’s throat, ready to kill him, and this isn’t exactly how Clint thought all of this would go.   He tries to calm himself down, tries to think of something to say, something that will make this all make sense but all the Russian he had learned is not coming to his mind right now and the soldier is still pinning him against the wall and he can feel a bit more pressure on his throat. He needs to say something though so he chokes out some words, doesn’t even think about them much before they leave his mouth and none of the Russian expressions that he practiced for this moment come out.

“Your arm is really shiny, please  don’t kill me.”

It is not the smoothest thing he could have said but it seems to take the soldier aback. He drops the arrow but doesn’t move his  metal hand away from Clint yet but the pressure decrease just a bit. Instead he is staring at him, moves just a bit closer to him and Clint can feel his breath when he speaks, English this time and Clint feels a bit of relief that he won’t have to try to have a full conversation in Russian with a man who could quite easily kill him.

“Your words. Where are they?”

It sounds more like a demand than a question and Clint answers, hopes that it is the right call to tell him.

“Across my left ribs.”

As soon as he says it, the soldier’s right hand is lifting up his shirt and Clint wants to protest but he doesn’t think it would be a good idea. Soon enough the soldier can see the words on Clint’s skin and he brings his flesh fingers to them, traces over them. It feels kind of nice but there is still a tension in the air and  the soldier still has not moved his fingers away from Clint’s yet and he has started speaking again. He is still speaking English instead of Russian now and Clint isn’t sure why, if it is just to make certain that Clint understands him.

“You stole my target.”

Clint just gives a nod.

“I am supposed to kill you. If a target is taken from me, I have orders to kill the one who did it.”

“Are you going to?”

Clint asks, needs to know. Soulmates don’t always matter to everyone, especially people in their business and there is no guarantee that the soldier will see any reason to not obey his orders. From what Clint has heard, he always obeys his orders, always gets his target.  There is a hesitation in the soldier right now, a bit of it for just a moment before he speaks again.

“You said some of  my words. Orders are to take the one who says my words. “

Clint wants to ask where he is supposed to take him but he doesn’t, asks a different question yet.

“Are you going to do that then?”

Clint isn’t exactly sure if he wants that to happen either but it would be better than being killed. The soldier gives no answer yet, just keeps looking at Clint. His hand slowly moves away from his throat now and there is relief but he still doesn’t move his right hand away from the words across Clint’s ribs.  He still stares at him and Clint takes this moment of quiet to look him over.

He is young, probably around Clint’s age , and that is a bit of surprise. Everything he has heard about the soldier has always led him to believe that it was someone older, someone with years of experience but this guy is young though there is weariness about him, like he has seen a lot. He is beautiful, a pretty face, strong and fit, but there are circles under his eyes and something troubled about his expression.  Clint only knows the rumors, what he has heard, and now  this man stands in front of him, terrifying yet almost broken seeming as well, and he is supposed to be Clint’s other half. He isn’t quite sure what that says about him but he decides to move forward, to see what he is going to do.

“We should talk, can figure out everything if you’re not sure what to do yet. Does anyone know you were coming here?”

The soldier shakes his head and he finally moves his fingers off of Clint’s words, moves them instead to his left wrist, wraps them around it. It is a firm grip, like he wants to  make sure Clint isn’t going to leave him and Clint isn’t quite sure what to think about it. Instead, he gestures with his other hand to the table and chairs and the solider nods and they both move to them, sit down next to each other and the soldier lets go of Clint’s wrist now.

“It might be good idea if we tell each other our names, since we are apparently a match and all. Clint Barton.”

Clint can’t decide if he should hold out his hand for a shake or not, isn’t exactly sure what the proper etiquette is for introducing one’s self to their soulmate who just moments before was planning to kill him and so he just kind of waves his hand, gestures at himself. The soldier just stares at him, something uncertain in his eyes.

“I have heard of you. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, uses arrows.”

Clint just gives a bit shrug, still staring at the other man. He still looks intimidating, strong and beautiful, but he also looks a little lost, is just staring at Clint with wide eyes.  A few seconds pass and nothing is said, no name is given and Clint really wants to know his name.

“So you want to tell me who you are?”

“I am the winter soldier.”

He says this, is still just looking at him and it isn’t really what Clint wanted to hear, wanted the man’s actual name and not his title.

“I meant your name, what I should call you because winter soldier doesn’t sound all that personal. What do people call you?”

The soldier just stares at him again for a long moment before he speaks again.

“I am called the winter soldier or asset , I do not remember any other name. It is not needed for me to remember a name. ”

That is not quite what Clint was expecting but he doesn’t see any lie in the man’s face and he feels a chill run through him.

“Is there a lot you don’t remember?”

A moment passes and then there is a simple answer given.

“Yes, I only remember missions, what to do, orders, not much else. Maybe I will remember you after this.”

Everything about what he has just said sound so wrong and Clint wonders just how broken this man who is Clint’s other half is, what has been done to him.  For now, Clint just gives a bit of a shrug, tries to play everything a little casually, tries not to act like his whole world has been turned upside down because he has finally found his soulmate and he might be more broken than he is.

“Maybe. Can I see your words?”

 He really needs to see them right now, needs to make certain that this is really happening.  The soldier just gives a little nod and starts to undo his jacket, takes it off and soon enough  he is lifting up his shirt.  The words are there across his ribs, Clint’s words, and he can’t help but reach out and touch them, strokes his fingers across them. He has thought about this moment for a long time but he never thought it would be like this, almost killed by his other half and as he runs his fingers over the words he notices something else that worries him just a bit.

“You have another set of words?”

He asks though he can see them plainly. They are below Clint’s own skin, in Russian, he can tell that much though he can’t really read it very well.  He had spent most of his time learning Russian focusing on the spoken language and he kind of wishes now that he had learned some of the written more, wants to know what it says.

“I have had them a shorter time than yours, I know that but I can’t always remember what they say. I think it changes.”

The soldier says this and it draws Clint’s attention away from the words, back to the soldier’s face and he moves his fingers away as the soldier puts his shirt back down.  Clint has heard of someone having two marks before, it doesn’t happen very often but it can, but he has not really heard about marks changing before and he isn’t sure what to make of it.

“I only have the one, they don’t change. Do you have orders about those too?”

“Yes, I am to do nothing about them, complete my mission, leave them to theirs.”

Different orders for those words and Clint wonders why he is to be taken. He doesn’t even realize he has said that part outloud till the soldier says something.

“I think they know of who says the other words but you are an unknown. I think they want to see if you can be useful to them.”

Those words sound a bit ominous and Clint isn’t sure what to think about them.  He is trying to think of what else to ask when instead he yawns, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him a bit more.  The soldier is looking at him again and after just a moment he stands up from his chair, grabs Clint’s hand and lifts so that Clint is being pulled up as well.

“We have at least two days, maybe a little bit more before I need to check in with my handlers. You should rest. “

The soldier is practically dragging Clint to the bed now, makes him lay down on it, sits down as well. Clint thinks about protesting but he isn’t sure if that would be the best idea right now so he just lays there.

“You should close your eyes.”

 The soldier says this and Clint isn’t really sure about it but he is really worn out,possibly in emotional shock, and the man beside him could probably kill him easily so he goes ahead and closes his eyes. After just a moment he can feel fingers wrap around his wrist, flesh and blood, and the touch isn’t too bad, almost comforting. After a few moments, he drifts into sleep, worries put aside for right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is a bit more and comments would be awesome.

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The soldier does not sleep right now, stays awake and watches the figure next to him rest.  Clint, he said his name is Clint but he is also known as Hawkeye and James wonders which name came first, which one he likes best, wonders if he will have time to ask. There is so much he doesn’t know about him, just knows that he said some of his words, is a good shot, and is young. There is something about him that almost seems innocent though the soldier knows he has blood on his hands, saw him kill a man tonight but it might have been the way his eyes widened when the soldier had him against the wall or the curiosity that flickered across his face as he asked the soldier if he could see the words.  Perhaps it is the way he is lying next to the soldier now, by his side and sleeping peacefully even though the soldier had him by the throat earlier, the trust he is giving him right now.  The soldier is not quite sure what it is about him that is making the soldier a little curious but there is something there and  he shifts just a little bit closer to him, takes his hold away from Clint’s wrist and moves his hand somewhere else.

He finds himself moving Clint’s shirt up just a bit, wants to see the words again and Clint moves a bit at the touch but settles down quickly.  The words are there, black against Clint’s skin, and the soldier thinks they looks a little strange. It is almost like they have been written twice , on top  of each other and the soldier isn’t sure why they would be like that but he doesn’t understand much about the words anyway. He knows to most that they are important,  mean a great deal but to him they are supposed to be nothing. He has his missions and that has to be enough but sometimes he wonders if he could have more, if the  words could mean something, if he could be allowed to have some brightness and warmth and that thought makes him think of red hair for some reason but he pushes the thought aside.

Clint is not red, not really fire or blood from what the soldier has seen of him, but there is something warm about him. He is warm next to the soldier, the words across his ribs warm as the soldier brushes a gentle finger across them and Clint shifts in his sleep at the touch, shifts closer to the soldier. Clint’s head is near the soldier’s shoulder and neck now and he can feel his warm breath against his throat. It is nice, this feeling of warmth and the soldier wonders if maybe he will get to keep it since he is supposed to bring Clint in but he does not know for sure if he will. There are few things the soldier gets to keep and he isn’t sure he will get to keep Clint or not.

Only a few hours have passed since Clint’s breathing evened out into sleep but it is already changing, his body starting to shift again.  He is waking up and the soldier watches him still, watches as his eyes open, as he stretches a bit. Clint looks around as he does so, is becoming aware of everything around him quickly and his eyes settle on the soldier almost right away, looks him over.

“Did you get some sleep?”

He asks and there is just a little bit of concern in his voice and the soldier is not used to it, not used to concern directed at him.

“I did not need it right now.”

He says this simply and Clint just looks at him for a long moment before accepting his answer.

“Ok, I need to eat, I have some stuff here and then we can talk a little more.”

Clint says this simply, gets up now and the soldier gets up as well, follows him into the little kitchen like area. Clint opens up the cabinets, gets some stuff out, opens up a can of soup and starts to heat it up. The soldier sits down at the little table there, watches him and he is a little surprised when Clint pours the soup into two bowels and gets two glasses of water and sets one of each in front of the soldier along with a spoon.

“Figured you need to eat too. I have some crackers too.”

He puts the crackers on the table now too, sits down across from the soldier and starts to eat. The soldier just sits and Clint arches an eyebrow at him after a moment.

“I promise you, it isn’t poisoned. Can’t promise it tastes that great but it isn’t poisoned. Would be a little counterproductive to poison it since I’m eating it too and besides for all I know you are immune to almost everything. Have people tried to poison you before? Is that why you’re not eating or are you just not hungry? Although if you’re not hungry, you don’t have to eat, just thought you might want to have something.”

All of this is said in a rush and the soldier just sort of stares at Clint, not used to someone saying so much to him at once. Clint sort of squirms a bit at his look and then picks up the bowel and drinks directly out of it instead of using his spoon and the soldier thinks he might just be doing that to stop himself from talking.  He picks up his own spoon now, gets a spoonful of soup and  brings it to his lips. He can feel the steam of it as he opens his mouth and it is warm going down his throat. Warm and a bit salty but it is better than what the soldier has had for years and he starts eating quickly after that and Clint gives a little smile as he does so. They eat in relative quiet and when they are finished, Clint gets up and searches the cabinet again and gives a little cry of triumph when he finds something.

“I knew I still had one here. Want half?”

It is a chocolate bar and Clint is already unwrapping it and splitting it in half and the soldier finds himself giving a nod.  Clint holds it out and the soldier takes it, takes a small bite. The chocolate melts in his mouth and he hasn’t had something sweet like this in a very long time and he takes a small pause before the next bit.

“Thank you.”

He says this, means it and Clint just gives a little smile and it is nice.

“Hey, everybody likes chocolate and you have my words and didn’t kill me so I figure I can share it with you. You don’t get it often do you?”

He asks now and the soldier just gives a nod, continues to savor the chocolate while Clint watches him. After a moment, Clint breaks his piece in half again and offers a little bit more to the soldier and he is surprised and not sure if he should take it.

“Go on, I still have some and I figure you are enjoying it more than I will.”

With Clint’s words, he takes the offered chocolate, gets a few more bites of it and Clint eats his own.  A few moments of quiet pass as Clint gets up and rinses out their dishes and the he wonders if he should say something when Clint does.

“So you said you heard about me but you probably don’t know much right? Just my name and that I have taken jobs for hire, that I use a bow?”

He gives a brief nod.

“Ok, so I guess maybe I should tell you a bit more about myself. I mean, I always figured that is the first thing you do when you met your marked. You want to know about me?”

This is asked and he knows that it doesn’t really matter, Clint is just a mission now, someone he needs to take back to his handlers but he does want to know and so he answers.

“Yes.”

Clint gives another smile and starts to talk, tells him about himself.  He says he is from Ohio, parents died when he was young, he and his brother went to foster home to foster home before settling in the circus. That is where he learned to shoot and when he had to leave it, he took that skill with him, made use of it the best he can.

“I don’t like it, not really but I try to make the best choice I can when I take a job. That guy I killed a while ago, the one you were after as well, he was not a good guy so I don’t feel too bad about that.  I don’t kill kids, don’t kill people who don’t deserve it.  I choose what jobs to take, you don’t get that choice do you?”

He asks now and the soldier answers with what he has been told before.

“A weapon doesn’t get to choose how it is used.”

There is a look that crosses over Clint’s face now, something that looks like a mix of fear and pain and worry and he doesn’t like. He much prefers the smile Clint had earlier but he isn’t sure how to get it back.

“You’re not a weapon, you’re a person and a person should have choices.”

“You believe that, don’t you? That I should have choices.”

He asks, wonders at it a bit as Clint gives a nod. It is a strange concept to the soldier, someone thinking he should be allowed to choose what he does and  he isn’t sure what to do about it, what to think about it.

“Yes, I do. Think everyone should.  We do need to figure out what we are going to do about your mission or whatever but we have a couple days, right?”

Clint asks this now and he gives a small nod.

“Ok, we should do a perimeter real quick to make sure everything is still secured and then I think I have some cards here if you want to play something. Sound ok?”

Once again he gives a little nod, content to follow Clint’s lead right now. They look over the perimeter and it is still secure, Clint knowing what he is doing for the most part and then they do play a couple games of cards.  It is something the soldier has seen people do on base before, playing cards to pass the time but he is rarely invited to play and it is nice playing with Clint.  Clint wins the first couple of rounds but the soldier wins this one and he gives his own little grin as he collects the card and Clint returns it.

“Your smile is nice. You look good when you smile. I mean, you look good when you’re not smiling, it is just a  sort of scary good. This is like a relaxed good. I’m just saying I like your smile.”

It is the babbling of before and the soldier tilts his head  a bit now, asks a question.

“You always talk this much?”

Clint sort of shrugs a bit.

“Sometimes? My mouth just sort of runs when I’m not sure what to say . I can shut up if you want me to.”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to shut up. I like you talking to me.”

He means it, it is nice the way Clint has been speaking to him, hasn’t really given the soldier a single order the whole time they have been together. It is nice and he wishes he could keep it.

“Ok, I won’t shut up then. You want to hear about the time I lost an elephant?”

“Yes. How do you lose an elephant?”

He asks with genuine curiosity and Clint tells him about it, tells him a lot of things as they play cards and then eats another meal together.  Clint not only talks and tells stories but encourages the soldier to do so and that is a different as well. Most people don’t listen to the soldier, there are a few exceptions and red hair flashes through his head again and it is nice.  He tells Clint what he can and Clint listens as he starts cleaning his bow.

“I have never cleaned a bow. I have cleaned many knives and guns though, have taught others to as well.”

“Really? Like do you remember who you taught?”

Clint asks and it is his turn to shrug.

“Not usually but  I know I have taught a few, can remember little bits of things the longer I’m out of the cold, pretty sure I have worked with one of them a few times now.”

He says this and Clint is looking at him with a bit of curiosity.

“What do you mean out of the cold?”

He asks and the soldier tries to explain the best he can.

“The cold is where I’m kept when I’m not need, put to sleep in a chamber. I’m woken up, sometimes taken to the chair and then wiped clean and sometimes just the words are used.  I remember more the longer I’m away from the cold, from the chair.”

“And they always take the memories away from you again, wipe you down, stick in you in the cold when you’re not of use to them ?”

There is anger in Clint’s voice and he is trying to figure out if he should try to soothe it or not. For now, he simply gives the truth.

“Yes, that is how it has been for as long as I can remember.”

“That isn’t right.”

Clint says this now, voice almost shaking and he simply shrugs.

“It is how it is, can’t change it now. “

“You could not go back, could run from them, I’ll help you.”

There is honesty in Clint’s voice, honesty and determination and it is something he has thought about before but he doesn’t know if it could work, it has never worked out in the past.

“I’ll think about it. You should probably get some more rest soon.”

“Ok, think I’ll take a quick shower. I’ll try to save some hot water for you so you can have one too. “

Clint says this and then makes his way to the little bathroom. He just sits and waits, tries to think a bit about what to do. He is supposed to take Clint to his handlers, he knows this but he isn’t sure he should, knows that Clint doesn’t want that from what he has said. He knows what he is supposed to do but he needs to decide if that is what he should do and he thinks about it as he takes his own shower, finds clothes waiting for him. They aren’t his, are obviously some of Clint’s and they fit a little snugly but it warms something inside him to have clean clothes, that Clint cares enough to share this with him.  He goes back into the small bedroom to find Clint already in the bed, some space left for him and he settles there quickly.

“Figured we can share the bed again, worked out ok last night. You ever share a bed with anyone else that you remember?”

Clint asks now and he thinks about it for a moment, can remember soft red hair and a bright smile and he gives a nod.

“I have, I think she said my words, the ones I am to done nothing about. She’s bright, warm. Warm like you.”

Clint is tense for just a moment at the mention of the other words but then he seems to shake it off a bit, gives a smile again.

“I’m guessing warm is good?”

“Warm is good, I like warm.”

He says this in response to Clint’s question and gets another smile.

“Good. I want to ask you something, and you can say no if you want to but I just want to see what it feels like, if it is different doing it with your marked than with someone else. People say it is but I don’t really know yet. “

He is babbling a bit again and the soldier just raises a brow and gives a nod so Clint will ask his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question is simple and he can’t remember having a kiss before so he gives a nod. Clint leans forward now, brushes lips against his, and they are warm, the contact is warm and brief but good and he smiles when it is done.

“That was nice.”

He says it simply and gets another bright smile from Clint.

“Yea, it was. Still have a lot to figure out but that was nice. Good to know. I should probably try to sleep. Try to get some rest if you can.”

 That is what Clint says now and he gives a nod, watches as Clint closes his eyes.  He just lays beside him, closes his eyes after a bit, dreams of brightness and warmth and wakes up before Clint, watches him again.  He thinks he knows his decision now and he hopes he is making the right one and he waits till Clint wakes up, till they are eating to say anything about it.

“I’m supposed to bring you in but I won’t. I won’t take you to them. “

He says this and Clint gives anther bright smile and he looks at it for a long moment, wants to memorize it.  It is beautiful and it almost makes him question his decision but he knows he has to do this.

“Ok, we will need to plan a few things out, can’t stay here long term but I know other places and we can get some more supplies and stay here a few more days if we need to.”

This is the opening he needs and he takes it.

“You should go and get supplies, come back here so we can plan. I will stay, look over what we have now.”

“You trust me to come back?”

Clint asks now and he gives a little nod.

“I do but I can’t leave till we have a plan, might be found if I do but we need more supplies. Can you do it?”

Clint gives a little smile again and the soldier is going to miss those even if he hasn’t had them very long.

“I can do that, let me get this stuff cleaned up.”

Clint does, gets his boots on and then is about to leave.  He stops Clint right before he leaves, wants one more little thing before he is gone.

“Can I have a kiss?”

He asks and Clint gives a nod and then they are leaning in together, lips brushing once more, warm and soft. He smiles as they part, watches Clint smiles for a moment, and then watches as Clint leaves. He waits a little while, finds the arrow he brought here just a couple of days ago and gets ready to leave. He has to check in soon or they will look for him and if they look for him, they will find Clint. He doesn’t know what they would do to him but he knows that it can’t be anything that Clint would want and so the soldier will keep them from him.

He makes his way to the base now, tries not to think about what he is leaving behind. This is something he has to do.  He lies to them in the briefing, tells about the target being taken, that he tried to find the one who did it but that he couldn’t. They accept it as the truth, don’t think he is lying. After all lying is something people do, weapons don’t lie and everyone here sees him as a weapon and little more.

He is punished for not finding the one that took his target, lashes across his back that cut and bleed but will heal soon enough. It hurts but he thinks it is worth it because Clint won’t have to have the same done to him.  Clint told him he deserves to choose what happens to him and he is choosing this so that Clint won’t be forced into it as well.  He thinks it is a good choice and it is all his and he holds onto that as they get him ready for the chamber, not wiping him yet and he is glad that he may dream about those smiles a bit more, dream about blonde hair along with the red, and it is enough for now, has to be enough and soon he is in the cold, asleep to the world.

 

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	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope people are still reading this and comments would be awesome.

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Clint gets everything quickly enough, makes it back to the safehouse in a few hours.  His mind is a whirl wind right now, trying to figure out exactly what they are going to do, how they can stay off the grid and this is going to be difficult, he is sure of it, but  it is the right thing to do. Even if the soldier wasn’t his marked, this would still be the right thing to do. From what he has said, the way he acts, the soldier has been broken and used and nobody should be forced to be a weapon. Clint isn’t always happy with what he does but he has a bit of say in it, has out right refused jobs before, but the soldier doesn’t have that option.  He’ll have it now, Clint will make sure of it, and he is looking forward to seeing him again.

He is almost to the door now and something doesn’t quite seem right, something telling Clint that something is wrong and he puts his bags down, moves closer. He gets a knife in his hand as he does so, need to be careful and he figures out what is wrong as he touches the door knob, turns it. It turns easily, isn’t locked and Clint had locked it before he left, made sure of it and he knows something has happened.

He moves quickly now, still has a hold of his knife and he searches the whole safe house. Nothing is really destroyed, the lock wasn’t broken though it might have been picked, and only a few things look to be out of place. There is no sign of the soldier, no sign of anyone else being here either but it is the fact that the soldier is gone that makes Clint stop and lean against the wall. He feels like he might fall down, fear and guilt crashing over him.

His marked isn’t here and Clint has no idea if he just left or if he was taken. There are not really any signs of a struggle but that doesn’t mean much, the soldier could have gone with them willingly for some reason and that makes Clint hurt.  The soldier is gone and Clint doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know what to do about it, doesn’t know if he can do anything about it.  His heart feels heavy right now, he thought he was going to be able to make things right and now he doesn’t know what to do. He slides down to the floor, just sits there and tries to keep himself calm, promises himself that he will find him again, that he will get the soldier out of where ever he was taken.  He hopes it is a promise that he can keep.

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The soldier is awake now and he can remember his last mission, can remember Clint and he knows that won’t last for long, he’ll be wiped from his head soon. He almost wishes he could keep him but that is too dangerous, he made a choice to save Clint from this and that means he can’t have him, can’t keep him.  He wonders if Clint hates him now, is angry at him, if he even realizes that James left by choice, and he just hopes that Clint doesn’t look for him.   If he does, he isn’t sure what will happen to both of them.

They are leading him to the chair now and he looks down at his words as they do, wonders briefly if Clint’s words will change like the others do or if they will stay the same.  A part of him hopes they won’t change, it will be safer for both of them that way, means they won’t meet again and he will not have to worry about his orders, will not have to worry about them finding out about his lie.  He does kind of wish  he could see Clint again but it is better that he doesn’t. As he sits down, he sees the other words below Clint’s and  he thinks about them for a bit, knows that he has met the person who will say them before, that is why they keep changing, and he thinks about red hair and warmth.  At least he should be able to see her again even if he won’t be able to keep her from being used like he was able to do with Clint.  He pushes both of them out of his mind now because they are giving him the mouth guard and it is about to begin.

It a rush of pain like always, never lessens even with how often it is done to him. His mind feels like it is being ripped into and he supposes it is like that, his memories being torn apart. It leaves him shaking and breathing heavily  when it is done and it always takes him a few moments to refocus after. When he has gathered himself just a bit, he looks to the words on his skin.  They both seem unchanged and there is a bit of relief in that, especially in the fact that the ones on his ribs are still the same . They have never changed as far as he knows and he still isn’t sure why that is when the ones below seem to be different whenever he looks at them. He looks at them for just a moment before his attention is drawn to one of the other people in the room.

“You need to get ready for your mission. You do not remember but you did not do everything you could on the last mission, had to be punished. Make certain that this mission is not the same. Understand?”

It is one of the higher ups, the soldier knows that, Pierce is his name, and he isn’t usually here for the soldier’s briefing, must be here because of the failure.  He gives a nod as he answers.

“Yes, sir.”

He says it and means it.  The soldier is a bit disappointed in himself for apparently failing a mission, he should know better, and he will make certain that this one goes well.  He is given the briefing and then heads out for it.

It is a short one and he is put back in the cold soon enough, dreams of red hair a bit again but also of blond this time, warm lips along with warm hands, and he isn’t quite sure why.  He is woken up again, another brief mission, and then put back to sleep.  He is woken up a third time and none of his words have changed and that is a bit different.  He is used to the ones below his ribs shifting but he doesn’t think they have in a while. He tries not to think about it too much as Pierce is here again and that only really happens when the mission is a difficult or long one or he failed. He does not think he failed, Pierce doesn’t seem angry or disappointed and when the soldier is given the file for the briefing he can tell this mission will be a bit different.

“We need intel, a lot of it, and this is a co-operation.  You have worked with the other agent before, you two work well together, both know your duty, there shouldn’t be any issues. You will be gone quite a while for this one, periodical check-ins when needed but you will not be back here for a while. You are to still obey all orders, especially those concerning your marks and returning to here once you are finished.  There will be consequences otherwise. “

Pierce says all of this and the soldier gives the only answer that he can.

“Yes, sir.”

The soldier is always a little conflicted when there are longer missions, likes being out of the cold for long periods of time, likes the chance to have a little time when he isn’t watched so closely, but sometimes things start to surface in his mind that makes it a little harder to follow orders if he is out long enough.  He won’t be alone this time and perhaps that will make it easier because there will be someone to remind him of his duty.

It doesn’t take long for the briefing to be over, for Pierce to leave with one final reminder to the soldier to do follow his orders, and then the soldier is taken to where he will be stationed for the mission. It is a safehouse but it isn’t as secluded as some of the others he has used before, is nicer and looks like someone’s home from the outside and he knows that it is this way because he will be playing a part when needed. It is something he has done before, not often but on occasion, and it is still odd sometimes. He is a weapon and it feels strange to play at being a person, to pretend he has choices, has a life.  At least it isn’t the cold and they leave him in the house, tell him the other agent should be there shortly.  He sharpens his knives as he waits and it doesn’t take long till there are footsteps and he hears a voice speak with just a hint of fondness in it.

“I have gotten compliments on how sharp I keep my knives but I think that yours may be sharper.”

Those words are below his ribs right now and he looks up at red hair and there is just a bit of warmth that settles over him. He doesn’t remember her very clearly but he knows her, trusts her and he gives a little smile as he continues sharpening his knife.

“Possibly.”

It is one word and he would ask her to see it but he somehow knows it won’t be on her skin, the words never are.  She comes closer, sits down beside him and takes one of his knives, looks it over. He doesn’t like people touching his weapons but with her it is alright, he knows that she won’t damage it.

“I’m glad it is you on this mission, it will be at least a few weeks, glad it is someone I know.  We should probably go over some of it soon, can do it over food. Have you ate yet?”

He shakes his head and she gives him a little smile, puts the knife down.

“Well, we can make something, the knives can wait.”

He gives her a little smile of his own and sets his knife down. They both get up and make a small meal together, heat up some canned soup that is in the cupboards, toast up some bread to eat with it. This feels familiar, is something he has probably done with her before but he also feels like he has done this with someone else as well though no face comes to mind.  He pushes the thought aside and just focuses on making the meal and then sitting down with her. They discuss the missions, discuss their covers.

“They gave you a name for this one, what is it?”

She asks and he answers.

“Warren James Spencer.”

Her face wrinkles about a bit at it and she shakes her head  a bit.

“I think Warren doesn’t suit you but James isn’t too bad. Perhaps I will call you that instead of Winter this time, if you are alright with it.”

Someone asking his permission for something is strange to him but he does not mind it, gives a little nod.

“What is your name for the mission, what can I call you here?”

He asks, can’t quite remember her name right now but she seems alright with it.

“My name for the mission is Sophia Ann Spencer but here you may call me Natasha like you usually do.”

“Alright, Natasha.”

He says this to try out her name and it feels right on his tongue and she gives him another small smile . He likes those smiles. They finish up their dinner, finish going over things, and then they take a walk around the safe house, make certain it is secured. It is late soon enough, time for rest before the mission starts tomorrow and he finds himself in the bedroom with her, both of them laying down and she lays close to him, settles against him.

“We will have to be close to each other the next few weeks, out in public, play at being in love, not afraid to touch each other. It shouldn’t be too difficult, I have done it many times before.  Have you done it before?”

She asks now and he brings  a hand towards her hair and she gives a little nod. His fingers settle into the softness of her hair as he answers.

“I can’t remember. It will be different for me, letting someone touch me.”

Different but he thinks maybe it won’t be too bad. She shifts just a bit now, looks at him and asks a question.

“Can I kiss you now, help you get used to it?”

The question seems familiar, like someone has asked something like  it once before but he can’t remember so he just gives a little nod.  She leans now, brushes her lips against his, soft and warm, and he likes it. She pulls back after a moment, settles against him again.

“That felt different than other kisses, less like a weapon. It was nice.”

She says this and he isn’t sure if he understands what she means about the kiss not being a weapon but he agrees with her about it being nice.

“It was. I think this mission will go smoothly, I trust you.”

He says this, knows that it is true, and she shifts just a bit closer to him now.

“I trust you too. We should try to sleep.”

She says this now and he gives a nod but doesn’t close his eyes just yet. He lays there and enjoys the way she feels next to him, warm and soft, and he wishes this is something he could always have. He can’t keep it but he will have this, have her, for the next few weeks and maybe that will be enough.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longish chapter,hope people enjoy and comments would make my night.

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It has  been a week and a half  since the mission started and Natasha can admit to herself she is enjoying it more than most missions even if it is going slow.  Usually she wants to have the mission done as quickly as possible but this one she doesn’t mind lasting longer and she tells herself it is only partly because of the soldier. She knows it has more to do with him than she wants to admit but she has to be careful when working with him. He is her marked and they have only been allowed to work together because they both understand that it can never be more, that marks are not really something they should have.  She sort of wishes that she could at least show him her marks but they probably won’t come back till after the mission and so she contents herself with seeing her mark on his skin and letting herself pretend just a bit that she can keep him this time.

“Do your words change?”

He asks her now. They are alone, back home for the evening, changing from the clothes they had worn out and he had seen her staring at his words again and he asks the question now. She gives a little nod.

“Yours do. They are always cut off but they come back different each time, the other set always comes back the same.”

“The other set? You have more than one set of words?”

He asks now and she hadn’t meant to revel that, it had just come out now and she gives a shrug of her shoulders now.

“I do but they do not matter, I have never heard them.  You have another set as well, do you know if  those change like mine do?”

He had told her about them before and she has seen them now.  She has always known that the soldier can’t be hers, even if the words could be a bit of a claim, she can’t keep him but she has always liked the idea that maybe that her words are special in a way.   She knows that if the words are a claim of sorts then she isn’t just his either but she has never heard the other words and they do not feel as real to her as his do.  Winter speaks now and it draws her attention back to him.

“I do not think they do and my orders have never changed for those, just like they have never for you. I’m supposed to take the person who says them in, deliver them so they may be of use.  It is one of the things I can always remember.“

A strange feeling runs through her at what he is saying, one that she tries to not ever let herself feel. Jealousy is something she rarely experiences, only really happened when she was younger and other girls were given praise, and she tries to push it down. It is an odd thing to be jealous of, the fact that he remembers the other words, is allowed to remember them while he must forget hers.  Right now, she decides to push the thought away, brushes a quick kiss against his lips because she can, because she can still say it is so they are both used to it still, and then speaks.

“We should eat. Anything you want?”

He takes a few moments to decide, he usually does, isn’t used to making choices but he does decide and they make a quick dinner. The rest of the night is simple, eating, cleaning up, checking their weapons. He watches her as she cleans and sharpens her knives, speaks as she tests how sharp it is.

“You cut your finger when I first showed you how to sharpen them, you didn’t cry,  let me bandage it and then wiped the blade clean.”

He says this like it has just come to him and maybe it has but she smiles at him now, is a little pleased he is remembering more of their past .

“I didn’t want to leave it dirty. That cut is one of the only marks I have been allowed to keep. “

It is the truth, she is not allowed to be too marked. Any marks they thought might district from her beauty are not allowed to stay, are removed but that one is small enough that it was allowed to remain. She thinks it is there as a reminder of some of her mistakes, to remind her of her training. Natasha doesn’t mind it too much, reminds her that she bleeds, that she can be marked, reminds her to be careful.

“Can I see it?”

He asks now and she just gives a nod, puts away the knife she was working on, moves closer to him. She holds out her right index finger out to him, shows him the small white line on the pad of it. He touches it softly with the tip of his right finger, his flesh hand.  It is a gentle touch and she doesn’t mind it at all.  He moves his finger away after a moment and then speaks again.

“I don’t remember you testing your knife like that after that. You learned quickly.”

It is a compliment and she can remember him giving her ones like that  before. 

“I had a good teacher.  We should get some rest soon.”

She says this now and he gives a nod, helps her make sure everything is put away. They go into their night routine then, checking over everything one more time, washing up together before retreating to the bedroom and turning off the lights. She lays close to him and right before she falls asleep, she can feel his arms wrap around her. It is nice, a comfort of sorts and she hopes she doesn’t miss it too much when she has to give it up again.

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The soldier  has been out of the cold for a while now, almost three weeks, and he is still able to focus on his mission but he is a bit distracted at times, feelings and pieces of memories coming to the surface and he tries not to think about them too much.  He doesn’t mind the memories of Natasha coming back, though he thinks it may make it harder to walk away from her again, but some of the other memories are making him unsure of what he is doing and he tries to ignore those, focus on the mission and Natasha. Right now, they are sparring in the basement of the house, keeping in practice and she is so much more deadly than she was when she was younger.  She manages to get a few good hits on him and he returns them. He ends up cutting her arm as they finish up, just a small one but it draws blood.

“I’ll help you clean that.”

He says this now and she just gives him a little nod and smile. They put away the knives they were using and go upstairs to the little bathroom where he wets a cloth and starts cleaning her small cut. It is simple and he gets a flash of doing this before, not with her but someone else, some one small and close to him. The flicker is gone as soon as it comes and he tries not to think about it, focuses on her instead, speaks softly.

“It is hardly anything, probably won’t even scar. Sorry if this stings.”

She just shrugs a bit.

“It isn’t so bad. I have had worse, I’m sure you have too.”

“I have. My punishments always make me bleed.”

He says this and she just gives a little nod, probably understands the pain of punishments, have probably had her own.  There had been a punishment before this mission, he was told about it and he has remembered some of it now, remembers he didn’t mind it, knows that he should have been punished for more than just not finding the one who took his target, he thinks he did something he wasn’t supposed to but he can’t remember yet. Maybe it will come to him but he isn’t sure if he wants it to.

“I think it is so you’ll remember it, it is what they told me.”

She says this and he just gives a nod, helps her put a bandage on the small cut and then they move away from the bath room, make a small meal and settle down in front of the TV. It has been a little strange, having this down time, able to fill it as he wishes but he doesn’t mind it too much and Natasha finds an old movie on tv. It is enjoyable enough, a story about Robin Hood and the arrows seem so familiar to him, makes him tense up just a bit. 

“I have never seen one of those used in real life before, probably not used much anymore though I suppose they would be quiet.”

Natasha says this now and James finds himself speaking before thinking about it too much.

“They are, can be quiet  and quick but you have to collect the arrows after. I have collected one from one of my targets before, my last mission.”

He knows this, can see it in his mind now, can see the arrow. He tracked down the one who did it, he is sure of it now but he isn’t sure why he didn’t eliminate them. Natasha just looks at him now, asks a question.

“You remember your last mission?”

She asks and he gives an answer.

“Starting to, bits and pieces. I was punished for it, didn’t follow my orders, suppose to kill any one who takes a target but I didn’t. It was a mistake.”

He doesn’t have to say anything more than that, she just gives a little nod and changes the channel, finds something else and he tries not to think too much more about his last mission. It is the current one that matters.

That night, while he lays next to Natasha, warm for the moment, he dreams of blonde hair and smiles. He is pretty sure he has dreamed of these things before but they are not quite the same, somehow he knows it isn’t the blonde hair and smiles that comes to him when he is out of the chair too long . This smile is different and there are arrows there as well, arrows and chocolate and warmth and he misses it when he wakes but Natasha moves a little closer to him as he wakes and it is enough right now.

The next few days pass and more memories start to come, memories of before, memories of his last mission, memories of his words being said, of blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile .  He wakes up one morning and knows that his other set had been said and he finds himself looking at them in the mirror that morning, wondering if they had changed and he just doesn’t remember but they are the same, he is sure of it. There are conflicted feelings about this, it means that he is never going to  see him again, see that smile he has been dreaming about it, but it also means he won’t have to bring him to Hydra.  He is safe, at least he should be, but he is good enough shot that he took a target from the soldier and if Hydra realizes that, he won’t be safe.  There is the thought briefly that the reason the words haven’t changed is because he has been killed and the soldier  presses fingers against the words now, needs to feel them. 

“Everything alright?”

Natasha is at the door way of the bathroom now, is looking at him with a little bit of worry in her eyes.  He thinks about it for just a moment before giving an answer.

“Just thinking about things that are coming back to me. Do you think we deserve choices, deserve to decide what we can be?”

He asks now, wants to know and she tilts her head at the question, almost seems a little taken aback at it. There is a moment’s pause before she answers and he wonders if she has ever thought of it before.

“It is dangerous to think about that. Besides, I have known nothing but this, no reason to think about other ways to live.”

She says it and it sounds rehearsed in a way, like something she has told herself before and it lets him know that she has thought about it but that she is resigned to all of it. Maybe that is for the best but her words make something uneasy settle in his gut but he pushes it aside, tries to focus on other things.

“You are right, we should do those eggs again for breakfast.”

Those words are meant as a distraction and he is sure that she knows this but she still smiles and gives a nod. He can’t keep the thought of choices out of his head, the words his other marked said to him about deserving choices and he is starting to think maybe the words are right, at least for her. Natasha deserves choices, he is sure of that but he doesn’t know how to give them to her. If they left, maybe she could chose for herself but she is right, that is a dangerous thought and he tries to push it aside.

More days pass and the mission will be over soon, they will have to say good bye again and there is no guarantee that he will see her again, that he will remember her. He doesn’t want to forget her, doesn’t want to forget that he has people who care, doesn’t want to forget that he has another marked that he has managed to protect. He decides that it might be worth it to run, that it is the only way that he would be able to keep this, that they would be able to keep this, but it isn’t a choice he can make by himself.  Natasha deserves choices and he will offer her this one.

She is laying in his arms right now, her soft red hair against his skin, and he brushes  a small kiss against her forehead. She smiles at him, different than the smile that he dreams about that he may not see again, but it still fills him with warmth and he doesn’t want to lose it. He takes a breath and then speaks, hopes that she can make this choice for both of them.

“If you wanted to leave, not to return to them, I would go with you.”

He says it, speaks it out loud and he knows she hears the question in it, the promise. He is asking her if she wants to run and promising to help her do it. He didn’t think he could run with the other, didn’t want to risk being caught and his marked being turned into a weapon, but she is already one and he wants to give her the chance to decide if it is what she wants.  He has asked and now he has to wait for her answer.

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“If you wanted to leave, not to return to them, I would go with you.”

The words are spoken softly but clearly and she is surprised to hear them, surprised that he is asking her to run. That is what this is, they both know it and she looks up at him now, isn’t quite sure how to answer. It is not something that she has expected from him. The mission has always came first, has to come first but now he is asking her to leave it and she doesn’t quite understand why. Natasha just looks at him for a long moment and he speaks again, words just as soft and clear as before.  

“It is your choice, I want you to have a choice in what you are.”

He has spoken about choices before and they both know that choices are not something weapons are supposed to have. Natasha doesn’t have a choice in what she is, she is too stained with blood to be anything other than what she is, but there is something  sweet about the fact that he thinks she could have a choice, could be something else. It is sweet and she brushes a quick kiss against his lips, is almost tempted by it, but she shakes her head after just a moment.

“I can’t run, there is nowhere else to go, we both know that. Let’s get some sleep.”

He just gives a nod and holds her a little bit tighter and Natasha closes her eyes, tries not to think about the other reasons why they can’t run. If they were to run and get caught, there would be punishments, harsh and cruel ones and they would never see each other again, she is sure of it. This is something she can’t keep, she knows that, but she gets to have it every once in a while right now, but if they run and fail, she loses even these little moments, both of them will lose these little moments and she can’t risk that, won’t risk that and she thinks he understands that. They hold each other tight through the night and the next morning they do their duty.

The mission is over soon after that and they have to leave each other, exchange one last kiss. Her words have not returned yet and she almost wishes that they had, that he could see them like she has seen her own on his skin. Instead, she grabs his hand and puts against her ribs, against where the words would be. He rubs his fingers against the spot and speaks.

“You told me once that is where my words are. Maybe one day, I’ll get to see them there.”

There is a bit of longing in his voice and they both know it probably won’t happen but Natasha gives a small smile.

“Maybe. We need to go check in now.”

He gives a nod and moves his hand away and they separate then, each going back to their handlers. Natasha wonders how long he gets to keep the memories of her this time,wonders about it longer than she should and tries not to think about what it would be like if he didn’t have to forget her. She goes about her duty and just a week after she leaves her soldier, words appear on her skin, the ones on her hip the same as always and the ones across her ribs different than last time. She looks at them, feels a tiny bit of relief that they are not the same and wonders about what is going to cause them to be said. She looks at them for a moment, thinks about things hidden and hopes that they are said soon.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some more, it is going to be a bit angsty. Hope people still enjoy.

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The soldier is awake now, has only been out of the cold for a few minutes and he finds his eyes drifting to the words on him, wondering if they are as he remembers. The words are important, he knows this somehow and when he sees them, he thinks  of red and smiles, feels comforted and sad at the same time and he doesn’t know why. He has been told that they don’t matter, one set is to be ignored and the other is to lead to capture but for some reason, the orders just don’t feel quite right but he pushes the thought aside, follows where he is led and gets ready for his mission.

He is working alone for this one, will check in when it is finished and that is something he is used to but he knows he has worked with others before, teams and individual and some have been better to work with than others. Most of his memories are a blur but he almost gets a glimpse of red again, of softness but he pushes it aside, has to focus on his mission, on taking care of a group that needs to be taken care of.  He has a few days if he needs it but it may not take that long and he will get it done.

The soldier starts taking care of them, going to one of their know hideouts, takes out all that are there. He keeps some alive a bit longer than others, find out where the rest of the group is before taking care of the mess.  He gives himself time to rest at a nearby safe house, gives himself time to clean up though he will probably get more blood on his hands later. These deaths are not supposed to be clean or painless, they are meant to be harsh and cruel, a punishment for hurting Hydra.  The soldier can do this, can be cruel when needed but it makes something in his stomach clench up a bit, doesn’t quite feel right to drag out screams from others but it is part of his mission and he will do it.

He makes it to the other base, sneaks in and watches for just a bit, catches bits of conversation. They don’t know that he is here, have no idea that their base is compromised and the soldier wonders how they have survived so long. Perhaps they are being terminated for incompetence and not just simply betrayal.  He listens to their talk for a bit before starting his job.

“How roughed up is he now? Any permanent damage?”

One of the men asks another as they walk down the hall and the soldier listens to the answer.

“Nothing permanent, though he probably isn’t going to be able to talk for a few days, rope was pulled pretty tight and his throat is already bruising. They don’t want to kill him yet, want to see if we can soften him up a bit,  see if he is willing to take an offer, might be useful. Hell of a shot from what I have seen.”

“He is, though the bow and arrows are still a bit weird. Does he think he’s Robin Hood or something?”

There is some more chatter after that but the soldier isn’t paying attention to it anymore, focusing on the words bow and arrow. It makes him tense up just a bit, a sort of worry and hope running through him and he doesn’t know why, finds himself moving in the direction that they came from, finding a room near by and he goes in, sees a figure on the floor and moves towards it without thinking, kneels down and looks at the figure.

It is a young man, blond hair a mess, skin covered in cuts and  bruises ,and there is a ring of purple and red around his throat. The marks there stand out, an angry circle on pale skin and the soldier doesn’t like how it looks, wants to soothe it somehow. The feeling is strange and he finds himself putting metal things gentle against it.The touch causes eyes to open, for the body to shift and the soldier finds wide bluish eyes staring at him in shock now and he starts to move his hand, only for fingers to wrap around his wrist. The man is trying to talk right now, but his voice is not working and he is not strong right now, the soldier can see this. He looks like he is going to pass out again  and the soldier simply puts his flesh hand on the man’s shoulder now, speaks calmly.

“You should rest. I will be back.”

Something about the words seem to comfort the man though the soldier doesn’t know why and he is given a weak nod, sees the man closes his eyes but he doesn’t take his fingers from the soldier’s wrist.  He waits till the man is asleep and  he moves his wrist away, goes to take care of his mission. He is quick and ruthless and the ones he heard speak in the hall of the man in the room suffer the most.

When it is done, he knows he needs to leave but the soldier also needs to do something about the man in the room. He isn’t a target, or at least the soldier does not think he is a target, but he can not be left here. He should probably eliminate him just as he did the others but the thought makes him hurt inside so he does the only thing he can think of right now, goes back to the room and takes the man with him, will decide what to do soon.

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The first thing Clint is aware of when he wakes is the pain. He hurts, in all sorts of different ways, soreness, stiffness, and he almost feels like some parts of him are burning. The second thing he becomes aware of is that he is no longer on hard concrete, is on some sort of bed and he wonders how he got here.  The third thing he becomes aware is that he isn’t alone, someone else is here and Clint sees the glint of metal, can see a familiar figure come closer to the bed and Clint had thought that he had dreamed that before.

His marked is here, the winter soldier is here, and Clint has been looking for him, trying to find him. It is what he was doing before those goons got ahold of him and he wants so badly to say something but his throat burns and the soldier is handing him something now, has sat down next to him on the bed.

“I need you to write your name, need to know who you are. Please.”

He doesn’t seem to recognize Clint at all, is asking for his name and Clint can feel his heart ache just a bit, remembers their talk from before. The soldier isn’t allowed to remember things and he doesn’t remember Clint. All this time looking for him and he doesn’t remember him but Clint still takes the pad, quickly writes down some words though he feels exhausted and whishes he could talk.

_Clint Barton. I know you, we met  before do you remember?_

Clint writes the question, is pretty sure he knows the answer but he wants to hear it. There are other questions he wants to ask, like where has he been, did they hurt him, did he leave Clint or was he taken, but he asks that one first.  There is a shake of the soldier’s head now as he sees Clint’s words and a tension that seems to settle over him.

“Were we allies?”

He asks now and Clint is wondering if he should tell him about the words or not, so he settles on sort of truth and writes it down quickly.

_Kind of allies had a plan together, didn’t work out_

Clint really wants to know why it didn’t work out, why he wasn’t there when Clint went back but he can’t get the words out and it doesn’t seem right to write them.  The soldier just looks at the words for a moment before shaking his head.

“I don’t remember but I couldn’t leave you there. You need nutrients. Do you think you could drink something now?”

He says all this and Clint gives a little nod. The soldier gets up now, leaves the room and Clint feels a tiny bit of panic run through him now and he tries to get up but can’t quite manage it. His body is not in great shape, pretty sure several  ribs are broken and his throat is bruised, and he collapses into the bed again, just lays there and closes his eyes. He isn’t sure how much time passes but he feels the bed sink a bit and the soldier is back, helps Clint sit up, hands him a cup filled with some sort of shake.

“Drink this slowly.”

Clint does and it had no taste but it is something for his stomach and he can’t remember the last time he ate. He had been at that base the last three days and a lot of it is a blur. He had gone through pain before, been beaten and hurt  by others, but this was more intense, more constant and he hadn’t been able to run this time.  It has been a rough few days but now he has his marked back and maybe Clint will be able to keep him this time, help him this time.  He finishes up the cup and then lays back down and the soldier stays with him, watches him right now and he murmurs a bit as he does so.

“I want to  keep you safe, don’t know why.”

He says this now, has fingers running through Clint’s hair and it is calming and nice. He feels really sleepy again, almost unnatural drowsy and something in his stomach clenches just a bit, a feeling of worry overcoming him and the soldier’s next words do nothing to ease that worry.

“I couldn’t leave you there but I can’t take you with me, check in is soon. I’ll get you somewhere safe, wish I could remember you.”

There is a bit of longing in those words and Clint grabs ahold of his flesh hand, grips it as tightly as he can, and is shaking his head no.  He doesn’t want to leave him again, doesn’t want to have to worry that he won’t find him again but the darkness is dragging him down now and all Clint can do is let it, to give in.

When next he wakes, he is in a hospital bed, being looked over and his throat is still raw and everything still hurts. The nurse is kind, gets him some water and tells him that he was dropped off at one of the entrances.  He nods and answers their question when he is given something to write with and he tries not to think about how he missed his marked again, couldn’t keep him for a second time.

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The soldier leaves the man at a nearby hospital, makes his check in and doesn’t mention the archer at all.  He isn’t asked if there were prisoners there and so it isn’t really disobeying an order, isn’t lying. He still isn’t quite sure why the man, Clint, needed to be kept safe, just knows that he did and the solider has managed that for now. It is a thought that comforts him as he is lead to the chair, as pain curses through him and the mission is wiped from his mind.

The soldier sleeps, maybe for minutes, maybe for months, maybe for years. He never knows how long he sleeps for, just knows that he dreams when he does, has fuzzy images in his head that feel real, feel like a dream at the same time. Images of  cleaning blood off of too skinny arms,  red hair soft against his fingers, and of chocolate bars being handed to him with callused hands. The dreams always disappear after he wakes though he tries to hold onto them and today is no different, he tries to keep the dreams in his head as he is lead to the machine, as his mind is put into a blank slate.

A mission is given, he is to take apart a former alley’s base, leave it in tatters, kill most there. It is something he has done before and something tells him that he has done it recently though he can’t remember . He is given one final order before he leaves, one to do with one set of his words and it is different from the orders given before.

“If those two words are spoken to you, shoot who ever says them. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldier says it atomically, knows that he has to obey orders but it makes something in him hurt to know that the orders have changed.  He pushes the thought aside and gets ready for the mission, knows that he will have to complete it, and he will.

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It has been over a year, almost two since Natasha last saw her soldier and the words have come back the same since then. Things are changing, there are rumors that some of their partnerships with other agencies  have gone sour and one of them may have been the agency in control of the soldier. It is worrisome but Natasha tries to reassure herself, the words have always been spoken after they appeared and these have not yet. She will see the soldier again.

She goes about her business, does her missions and does them well but she still wishes for those words to be spoken, longs to hear them. It will be so good to see him again, Natasha is sure of it and hopefully it will be soon. She thought about him all through this last mission and the words had appeared on her skin again this morning but  she pushes the thought of him aside as she returns back to the base.  She goes over her briefing and then finds herself alone in her room.

It is late but she isn’t asleep, can’t  sleep right now. She goes sits in the dark, hands trailing over the words on her skin. They will be cut off soon and she wants to keep the feel of them in her mind.  They don’t matter, not really, but they are a reminder that she has something that is almost hers in a way. She thinks about the other words for a moment but they still don’t feel real to her, never change and have never been spoken so they matter even less than the other ones.  Natasha pushes the thought of the words away when something catches her eyes, the light outside her door flickering for just a moment. It was just a few seconds but it lets her know that something is wrong and she leaves her room, can hear something drop down the hall as she does. Someone is here, they are under attack and she needs to decide if it is best to fight or flee or hide.

Natasha chooses to hide, goes to one of the storage rooms, puts herself behind some of the shelves. It will give her a chance, she knows this area, it is cluttered and hard to move around and it will give her an advantage. She should be able to take out whoever it is but there are some who are faster than her, who are stronger than her, and the fact that someone has managed to get in here without being noticed at first is a sign that she is dealing with a threat.  She hides and waits for the threat to seek her out, keeps her knives close to her. It does not take long and she soon hears heavy steps, knows she is being allowed to hear those steps and then a voice speaks in the dimness of this room and it makes a chill run through her.

“Skrytyye veshchi vsegda nakhodyat.”

Those words are on her skin right now and she didn’t think they would be spoken like this, as she hides in the dark, as he looks for her.  Her heart is beating quickly and there is no point in hiding now, he is going to find her and all she can do is face him. She steps away from her hiding place, steps to where she is in his eye line and she says two words, hope that they are enough, hopes that his orders haven’t changed.

“James. Winter.”

Two words, two names, names she has called him, names that mean more to her than they should.  She can see him, see his eyes widen for just a moment before his expression turns to steel and his hand moves quickly. The shot is quick, hits her before she has a chance to move but she throws a knife at him, knows that it sinks into flesh. It isn’t enough to kill, will barely be a wound but there is a  bit of satisfaction  in knowing she has made him bleed just like he has made her bleed. She is bleeding, blood pouring down her side and she is a bit surprised that the shot was not to the head. He could have done it, she as seen him do it before but he did not this time and she doesn’t know why.

He moves forward now, quick and graceful as always and Natasha responds in kind, dodges and hits when she can.  They used to spar when she was younger and she wishes that she could think of it as sparring still but she knows that it isn’t. There is nothing of her teacher right now, she is seeing the weapon and he gets her in a hold, metal hand wrapped around her neck and she knows what he can do with that. She wonders if she will hear her own neck snap. The sound doesn’t come, instead there is pressure placed on her throat, air being cut off.  She can feel darkness start to claim her but this isn’t going to kill her, she is sure of it, and she wonders why he isn’t going for the kill. It is the last thought she has before she passes out.

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The soldier holds the redhead for just a moment after darkness claims her, places her down instead of letting her drop. She said two of the words on his skin and he followed his orders, shot her. It was not a killing blow and he won’t finish her off, can’t. Instead, he rips off part of her shirt sleeve, places  the cloth on her wound as a sort of make shift bandage. She is the only one still alive on the base, though she is wounded and he finds himself going to one of the control room and pushes the call button, lets a signal be sent out. He tells himself that it is part of the mission, they want the base to be found, for this to be a warning but a part of him knows it is so she will be found, so she won’t bleed out on the floor. He pushes that thought away and leaves, goes back to his own base, tells a version of the truth and then is put back to sleep, the last thought he has is how she said those names, like they were his, like they mattered and he tells himself that she will live even if he never sees her again.

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Natasha wakes up in another base, pale and shaking but alive.  A handler is there, questions her as soon as she is awake and she tells the truth or a version of it. She speaks about him finding her, speaks of the shot and throwing the knife but she doesn’t mention speaking to him, doesn’t mention the words that no longer grace her skin. They don’t matter, can’t matter, and she was tricking herself that they did matter. They are both weapons and those who wield them are no longer working together so she will not see him again.  When she is left alone, she has a thought, one she needs to forget about. She thinks that maybe she should have ran with him when she had the chance.  She didn’t take the chance and now there is no going back, she has to forge ahead and forget that once there was something she could have called hers.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skrytyye veshchi vsegda nakhodyat. = Hidden things are always found.

**Author's Note:**

> Eta strelka prinadlezhat vam . Khotite yego obratno ?- This arrow belongs to you. Would you like it back?  
> YA tebya ne pomnyu. YA ne davali . – I do not remember you. I was not allowed to.
> 
> Vy byli moim uchitelem odin raz.- You were my teacher once.


End file.
